Hell Hath No Fury
by EAdams
Summary: A very angry Elizabeth meets a determined Darcy at a party and sparks fly. One-shot.


_A/N: This is a little one shot that I wrote for a challenge with a friend. We were seeing how many meet-cute situations we could crank out in one month. I think we each did three. Here's my third one. (On The Couch was the second) I've got one more (the first that started the whole throw down) that I think I will write a part two to, but I may post the first bit next weekend. Enjoy!_

Elizabeth was mad. Madder than mad. She was bloody pissed off. How dare that wanking, son of a whore try to pull this over on _her._

Well, she'd show him. Looking great is the best revenge, isn't it? She could have another man in a minute. She _would_ have another man in a minute. She painted her toes and nails a deep red, washed off her grape-seed facial, shaved her legs and put on enough lotion to make her skin shimmer. Every inch of her was touchable and silky smooth, just like the barely there dress she slipped on and the wavy mahogany hair hanging half way down her back.

The only thing between her and the silk dress was the tiniest strapless bra and a thong that could better be described as a piece of string. He'd never seen what was under that dress, and now, he never would.

Her lips were blood red and that's exactly how she felt: out for blood. If he thought he could cheat on her and get away with it, he had another thing coming. She threw her lipstick, phone, keys, cash and a credit card into her tiny clutch and didn't bother with a jacket; if she got cold, all the better. Let him see what he gave up – she had nothing to hide.

She walked into the gallery on a mission: Make George Wickham Pay. She checked her purse in at the cloakroom. She didn't want her phone with her. He'd figure out she wasn't there when he got to her empty apartment. He'd eventually show up on his own, maybe even with a new date. She hoped he would. She wanted to see what kind of gutter trash wore the bubblegum pink kitten panties she'd found in his jacket pocket.

By the time he got there, she'd have them eating out of her hand, and he'd know just what a monumental mistake he'd made.

She took a glass of champagne from the passing waiter and took a sip, scanning the room over the rim. Her make-up was smoky and her thick lashes black. Her eyes were gleaming, emerald green with fury.

"Who. Is. THAT?"

"Who?"

"That!" Fitzwilliam whistled. "Ho-ly hell, she's hot! Look at those legs! And that arse! Man I'd like to-"

"Fitzwilliam! Get a hold of yourself. We're in a public place and people can hear you!" he hissed.

"Oh, God, she's turning around. Oh, is she even wearing a bra? Look at those!"

Darcy looked, alright. Fitzwilliam was right. She was definitely hot. And judging by the look on her face, she knew it, too.

"She's looking over here. I'm gonna go talk to her." Fitzwilliam bustled off, leaving his cousin all alone.

Well, almost alone.

"Look at him, chasing after that tart! Men are so predictable. I'm so glad you're not like the rest of them."

"Are you saying I'm not like a man, Caroline?"

She looked shocked. "No! Of course not! I'd never suggest such a thing! I only meant that Fitzwilliam is not being very subtle and she is obviously a cheap sort of person. Look at her dress."

"Hm." Darcy looked at her dress. And at the glorious woman in the dress. It was almost like she was actually sparkling. "Excuse me, Caroline." He walked towards the bar and requested a stiff drink, leaving Caroline chafing on the other side of the room.

Within an hour, Elizabeth was surrounded by a group of loyal admirers. She laughed and flirted, teased and smiled until they were eating out of the palm of her hand. She was excellent at flirting, though she seldom did it. It could lead to uncomfortable situations and cause her to have to say things she'd rather not, but tonight, this was what she wanted.

Soon enough, Wickam walked in. He had no one with him, but walked with a certain swagger that Elizabeth had once thought showed confidence, but she now thought was cocky and smug. He scanned the room and seemed surprised to see her there. Playing it cool, he continued looking around and winced slightly when he saw Darcy.

Elizabeth, who was watching him from the corner of her eye, noticed and wondered at it. If Wickham disliked that man, she'd have to find out more about him and if he wasn't too repulsive, make him her next conquest. Looking surreptitiously at Darcy as she took another glass of champagne, she knew she wouldn't mind the task.

Darcy saw Wickham enter and wondered if he would ever be free of the bastard when he saw Elizabeth looking at George calculatingly. It was over in a second, but he was sure he'd seen it. Wickham had looked at her possessively, a look Darcy wished he didn't recognize, with a sort of pride that the woman every man wanted was his to take home. But Elizabeth did not seem to return the sentiment. If anything, her eyes burned a little brighter, and it was not with a passion born of love, but something else entirely. _Intriguing_.

Darcy moved a little closer to Elizabeth and her crowd of admirers. He saw her steal several sly glances at Wickham's, and oddly his, direction. What was she playing at?

Fitzwilliam pulled her away from the group and toward his cousin.

"Let me introduce you to my cousin. Darcy, come here. This vixen," he placed a hand on the small of her back, "is Elizabeth." He rolled the 'z' slightly. "And this stodgy old man refusing to have any fun is William Darcy."

Elizabeth extended her hand, palm down, for a hand shake, but instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips and placed a light kiss on her knuckles. She raised an eyebrow in surprise and interest, and he lowered his hand, stroking his thumb along her smooth skin and not releasing her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, William Darcy," she said lowly.

"The pleasure is mine," he replied.

"Oh, no you don't, Darcy! No swooping in and taking the girl at the last minute. You have to work harder for it than that," joked Fitzwilliam, but beneath his cheer, it was clear he was not pleased with his cousin's interference and Elizabeth's apparent interest.

"I'm sure Mr. Darcy can work _very_ hard – when need arises." She looked at him with eyebrows raised in challenge.

"Harder than most, Elizabeth. And call me William." She smirked at his response and Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes.

"I need a drink," Fitzwilliam said in a tired voice. He walked off towards the bar, leaving Elizabeth and William alone.

Darcy noticed Wickham giving him a black look, and decided that, for a change, he would be the one making Wickham jealous.

"So, William," she stepped a little closer, "what shall we talk about, all alone?"

He took a step closer and Elizabeth saw Wickham turning red. "Tell me about yourself."

"Me? Oh, I'm terribly dull," she said flirtatiously, stepping closer still. "What could you possibly want to know?" She looked into his eyes, suggesting she knew _exactly_ what he wanted to know, but was enjoying playing this game with him. Very well, he could play along.

"Do you like chocolate?"

"Doesn't everyone?" she replied, wondering where he was going with this.

He smoothly took a truffle off the tray of a passing waiter and held it up in front of her. "Truffle?"

She nodded once and opened her mouth slightly, waiting for him to feed her. He didn't hesitate.

Across the room, George Wickham was seething. That was _his_ girlfriend, _not_ Darcy's! He was trying to decide if he should leave without making a scene, interrupt their conversation and demand an explanation from the little cheater, or find the sexiest woman in the room and take her home with him, rubbing Elizabeth and Darcy's faces in it.

Obviously, option three was the most appealing and the one he chose to go with. The only problem was, Elizabeth was the sexiest woman in the room. And by more than his consensus. Men everywhere were looking at her. Entire conversations stopped to watch as she took the first bite of that stupid little truffle and he could have sworn he heard a collective groan when she swallowed it with her eyes closed, then smiled at the man that fed it to her, looking just so damned _satisfied_.

"Good?" Darcy asked.

"Very," she answered. She took the last of it from his hand and held it up to him. Her eyes were glittering as she moved her hand slowly towards his open mouth. She let her finger reach a little farther than it should have, and he stopped her from removing it by grabbing her wrist and closing his mouth around the intruding digit. Painfully slowly, he swirled his tongue around her finger and then raked his teeth along the tip as she pulled it out of his mouth.

"You had chocolate on your finger," he said with a rakish grin.

"I'm sure I did."

"It's a bit warm in here. Care to step out for some fresh air?"

"I'd love to."

He walked ahead to the cloakroom to fetch her bag for her and she quietly stepped over to George Wickham, who was skulking against the wall.

"What do you want?" he asked scathingly.

"Nothing, George. There is absolutely nothing I want from you. And by the way," she stepped closer to him, letting her breath tickle his ear and her perfume wash over his senses, "it's over."

She stepped back, smiled somewhat smugly, and left the room.

"How do you know George Wickham?" William asked as he handed her the handbag and they walked out the door and down the long set of stairs in front of the museum.

"Oh, he's just someone I had the misfortune to go on a few dates with and the good luck to see for what he really is before it became serious. You?"

"I knew him from school. So you two aren't..." he made a gesture with his hands.

She smiled, perhaps her first un-calculated smile of the night. "We certainly aren't now and we never really were; it was only a few dates." He nodded. "I prefer my men more..." she played with his tie as she pursed her lips and pretended to search for a word, "hard-working."

He threw back his head and laughed. Then, before she knew what was happening, he reached around her and pulled her close, bunching the silk of her dress in one hand and sliding the other over her back. Without a word, he bent and kissed her, pressing her fully against him and demanding a response.

"Was that hard enough, Elizabeth?"

She pressed against him slightly. "It's getting there."

He pinched her backside. She yelped and pulled away from his hand and into the thickness of his body. "Yes, definitely getting there," he murmured before he kissed her again.

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